American Life in Poetry: Column 511

BY TED KOOSER, U.S. POET LAUREATE

Just as it was to me, Insha’Allah will be a new word to many of you, offered in this poem by Danusha Laméris, a Californian. It looks to me like one of those words that ought to get a lot of use.

Insha’Allah

I don’t know when it slipped into my speechthat soft word meaning, “if God wills it.”Insha’Allah I will see you next summer.The baby will come in spring, insha’Allah.Insha’Allah this year we will have enough rain.

Every language must have a word for this. A wordour grandmothers uttered under their breathas they pinned the whites, soaked in lemon,hung them to dry in the sun, or peeled potatoes,dropping the discarded skins into a bowl.

Our sons will return next month, insha’Allah.Insha’Allah this war will end, soon. Insha’Allahthe rice will be enough to last through winter.

How lightly we learn to hold hope,as if it were an animal that could turn aroundand bite your hand. And still we carry itthe way a mother would, carefully,from one day to the next.